Heartless Savage (Angels Halo MC Next Gen 7)

After the call ended, I let the pilot know about the plans and then texted Mom that I had to make a trip. I didn’t explain where or why, because I honestly had no idea what was going on with Garret. But he hadn’t seemed upset about anything, so I figured there wasn’t anything to worry about.

The whole part about having a head of security and a housekeeper who would put me in their best room gave me pause, but it wasn’t in a bad way. It just made me wonder if he’d gotten into some other business and I wasn’t going to be bringing him home with me when I came back. Maybe he’d even moved on from Cali and was settling down.

It was almost a relief to have something to occupy my mind, though. Nova’s birthday was in two days, and it had been a struggle to make it through the nights as the date got closer and closer. In my gut, I didn’t think I would make it past her birthday. I didn’t know if I had the strength to go on when the moment arrived that I’d been planning for since I was eight years old.

* * *

Jet looked like death warmed over when I picked him up at the airport. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he boarded, his clothes wrinkled and his hair completely unkempt. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin had an unhealthy tint to it. The man appeared not to have slept in days, and I wasn’t confident in guessing the last time he’d showered.

I knew Nova would have been upset if she saw her dad like he currently was.

“Garret didn’t say anything about why we’re going to Colombia?” he asked in a hoarse voice as he took his seat across from me.

“He didn’t give me many details about anything,” I told him honestly. “But he seemed…” I paused. “Happy?”

“Yeah, I heard it in his voice too.” The older man’s shoulders drooped. “I guess I should be thankful that someone I love is doing well.” He scrubbed his hands over his face before combing his fingers through his hair. Muttering a curse, he finally looked at me again. “How are you doing, son? Her birthday is the day after tomorrow and it’s been gnawing at me, so I can only imagine what you’ve been going through.”

I nodded to Oliver, who

brought over a bottle of whiskey as I’d instructed. “I thought we could spend the flight drinking away the pain of not getting to celebrate her turning eighteen.”

Jet picked up the bottle. “Bring him another bottle,” he instructed the flight attendant. “This one’s mine.”

“Figured you would say that,” I told the man who was supposed to have been my father-in-law in two days’ time. “I prefer vodka myself anyway.” Oliver handed over the bottle then excused himself.

I uncapped the top and clanked the bottle against Jet’s. “To the most beautiful girl who ever walked this earth. May we be so lucky as to hear her sweet laugh one more time,” I muttered.

He blinked his green eyes rapidly for a moment before nodding and tipping his own bottle back for a deep pull. I did the same, gulping down the contents until the pain in the center of my chest was numb.

By the time the wheels touched down at the small, private airstrip an hour outside of Bogotá, neither of us was feeling any pain. Oliver had been trying to sober us up for the past two hours of the flight, urging us to drink some coffee or eat something. But I was enjoying the numbness too much.

Two of my guards were with me, and they exited first. I grumbled when Otto returned and said everything looked good. Jet stood, only stumbling slightly as we headed for the stairs. On the tarmac, a black Jeep was already waiting. A man with dark hair and a weathered face who was closer to Jet’s age than my own stood with my second guard. Nardo usually acted as my driver, but if I had to go out of town, I always brought him. No one could replace Pietro, but Nardo was who I trusted the most now that my other guard was gone. The two of them just stood there watching us, the man I didn’t know looking less than impressed.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jet grumbled when we reached them, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the stranger. “Why do you look familiar?”

“Mr. Hannigan.” The weathered man inclined his head slightly. “My name is Guzman. Your son sent me to pick up you and Vitucci.”

“He’s the head of security for Ramirez,” Nardo muttered beside me, sobering both of us up in a rush.

“Fuck,” Jet muttered. “Now I remember where I know you from. You met us at the gate when we came for Manuel Ramirez’s head.”

Guzman bowed his head again. “That was me.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jet looked at me as if I knew the answer. “What are we doing with one of Ramirez’s men? Who the fuck is running his business now?”

“I haven’t kept up with who inherited everything since Cali died. You’ll have to ask your son that. He’s the one who sent him to pick us up.” I nodded toward the Jeep as I turned back to Guzman. “We won’t all fit in there.”

“There is a second car,” Guzman said, indicating a car coming in the distance. “I’m to take you and your men to the house. But Mr. Hannigan’s presence has been requested elsewhere.”

“I’m not leaving him.” I stepped into his space. “I don’t know you, and since you work for Ramirez, I sure as fuck don’t trust you.”

“Garret Hannigan trusts me,” Guzman said with a slight smirk. “So does his mother.”

At the mention of his wife, Jet pulled me away and got in Guzman’s face himself. Grabbing the man’s shirt in both hands, he jerked him closer. “Felicity?” he rasped. “You know where my wife is? Stop playing around and take me to her. Now!”

“The car coming will take you straight to her,” Guzman told him in his thickly accented English, unaffected by the wildness in the drunk man’s eyes. “Alone. Vitucci is to go to the house. Obviously, he needs to sleep off the case of vodka he’s drowned himself in.”

“We stay together,” Jet argued.